THE beautifully wooded valley through which the Kelvin flows has always been one of the favourite resorts of both old and young Glasgow. The extension of the town and the spread of public works, which, within the last thirty years, have done so much to destroy many beautiful bits of suburban scenery, have as yet dealt tenderly with classic Kelvingrove. It is true that the water of the river is now anything but pellucid, but, this notwithstanding, its banks still afford one of the most charming and romantic strolls within easy access of the city. It is now more than fifty years since Thomas Lyle sang -

"O, Kelvin banks are fair, bonnie lassie, O,

When in summer we are there, bonnie lassie, O,"

but the sentiment is doubtless still echoed in the hearts of those young people who wander through the grove in circumstances similar to those described by the poet. The Pear-tree Well is situated on the right bank of the river, not far from the western extremity of the Botanic Gardens. The water issues from the bottom of the bank and is collected into a kind of cistern, which has been formed in the rocky bed of the valley. It is said to be deliciously cool and slightly impregnated with iron; but as the Kelvin when it is high overflows into the cavity, the visitor of the present day would do well to take these qualities on faith, and refrain from proving them.

The question of what really is the original name of the fountain has long furnished a fertile field of discussion. Whether is it "Pear-tree" Well, or "Three-tree" Well? The advocates of the latter appellation say that there is no evidence that ever there was a pear tree in the neighbour-hood, but that undoubtedly it is shaded by the branches of three trees - a plane and two ashes. Hence they contend that "Pear-tree" is simply a corruption of "Three-tree," and that "Three-tree Well" ought to be accepted as the correct denomination. This knotty question was taken up by the late Hugh Macdonald, and surely on a subject of this nature the Rambler may be looked on as an authority. In his Rambles Round Glasgow he says:- "Whether from langsyne associations or not, we shall not attempt to discover, but Pear-tree Well sounds most musically on our ear - and we should be loath to have it suppressed by the word-coinage of any crotchety theorist; and, besides, who can tell what kind of trees may have formerly graced the locality? A perfect orchard of the pear tribe may at some past period have clothed the banks of Kelvin, for anything that these violators of a time-honoured name -"these men who are given to change" - know to the contrary. No, no, Pear-tree Well it has been, and Pear-tree Well to us at least it must remain. We had as lief meet an old friend with a new face as an old haunt with a new name."